Clumsy
by nonotthatone
Summary: Clex, one-shot. Clark has a talent for saying the wrong thing. Fluff.


Disclaimer: I don't own any of this.

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Clumsy

Clark is sort of grateful that normal teenage boys are supposed to be awkward. It's a good cover and he knows it. But the thing is, he's really not faking. He actually is a total klutz.

It's not just physical either, though his outsize hands and feet don't help. There's something about his mouth that just won't work the way it should.

Pete and Chloe just laugh at him and the ridiculously dirty things he says by accident. With Lana it's even more embarrassing; though with the weakness and nausea he always feels when he's around her, he supposes he should count himself lucky. Saying something dumb is way better than throwing up on her shoes, and anyway she's always sweet enough to pretend not to notice.

But with Lex it's the worst. His reaction has two sides, the faint crease of a frown followed by the flicker of silent laughter in his stormy eyes. Lex already looks at Clark like he half-disbelieves everything about him; to feel that amusement in his gaze only makes Clark blush hotter in frustration and shame.

Like that day last week, when Lex came upon him in his shirt-sleeves, tossing bales in the barn. It was early enough in the autumn that the late-afternoon sun was still blazing, and the work and machinery made the air in the enclosed space hang close and warm. Clark turned at Lex's greeting, took in his omnipresent dark suit and long trenchcoat, and remarked, "You look hot in those clothes."

Or a few evenings ago, over pool ... Their laughter and smack-talk had reached a fever pitch, and Lex taunted that he just needed two more shots to beat him. "All right then," he'd grinned, leaning on his cue in a flirtacious manner that he never even realized he had until it was too late. "Give it to me."

Or just now, late at night in the library, the glow of Lex's computer screen luminous on his pale skin as they tried to figure out what dastardly schemes Lionel could be up to now. Lex had called Clark, hinting ominously at some new evidence; Clark strode into the the room with friendship's entitled ease, leaned over Lex's shoulder and commanded, "Show me what you've got."

Lex's graceful hands still over the keyboard. Everything about him is tense and controlled, from the way he moves to the way he speaks to the things he says - and doesn't say. Lex would never do anything like this, never say more than he intended or reveal more than he wanted to. Clark is grateful to be at his back; at least he has that, and the shadows to hide his embarrassment at yet another suggestive gaffe.

But then Lex cocks his head to the side, the slight movement just enough to bring his mouth to a level with Clark's ear. "I'd love to," he counters, and when Clark's eyes dart to his in surprise, his expression is wicked and ravenous.

Clark springs back, nearly knocking over some priceless antique or another in his panic. He moves quickly to steady it, but when he turns around again Lex is right there, invading his personal space with familiar purpose. Clark has seen that pose from Lex before, recognizes the flare of determination in his face and the coiling that precedes his predator's strike.

He just ... never really thought he'd be the prey.

"The question is," Lex presses, his hands cupping Clark's face with a touch as soft as feathers and a will as hard as steel, "did you mean it? Or was that just another of your blunders?"

Clark's pulse hammers and he stutters. "I ..."

"You're so clumsy," Lex purrs, drawing closer.

"And you're ..."

"So careful," Lex finishes.

"Yes," Clark whispers, helpless in his hands.

"Was that an answer?" Lex asks, so close now that Clark can feel the movement of each syllable against his lips. "Or an invitation?"

He closes his eyes, unable to stand the tension anymore. "Both."

Lex's grace and skill turn out to extend into other areas as well. Unfortunately, so does Clark's fumbling awkwardness; but Lex doesn't seem to mind in the least.


End file.
